Hey, I remember this stuff!

Not so long ago, I was asked to join a group I call the “Super Secret Executive Director Society.”

It’s not really super secret. Lots of people know about it.

But the group is invitation only, which seems rather silly and unnecessarily exclusive to me even now that I’ve been invited to join. Thus the nickname.

Each meeting we focus on a topic facing non-profit executive directors and have a discussion, led by two trained facilitators / experts.

The last meeting was about succession planning.

I didn’t think much about it until I got the reminder email which included a few readings for us.

The title of the first one sounded familiar. As did the name of the second article.

Then I realized that I had read both of them when writing my master’s thesis which was on sudden changes in leadership in arts non profits.

I was rather shocked that I remembered the two articles. Sure, I read a lot about emergency leadership transition when writing the paper, but it was four years ago and I have very poor reading retention.

I read something and half the time don’t remember the details just a few weeks later. And that’s a novel. Dry nonfiction disappears from my mind even more quickly.

So I was pleased that something stuck.

Then in the group discussion I realized that it’s more than those two articles that stuck with me. I still felt rather passionate about the topic. And could still argue my points.

I even remembered reading books and articles referenced by the facilitators.

I made it through the whole meeting without telling everyone about my thesis, which I think would have come across as braggy, but it felt good to have that knowledge base behind me so I could participate fully and confidently in the conversation.

I always assumed that the process of writing a thesis (which was traumatic at times) would stay with me much longer than the learnings and expertise did. But apparently you can’t put an eighty page paper behind you that easily.

It’s just plain wrong.

There’s a pretty serious error in this recipe.

I’m no cooking expert, but I do know that potato chips are never optional.

There’s something to be said for under-sharing.

At a recent meeting, the participants were asked to go around the table and share a little bit about what was going on in their lives.

This was a business meeting, so most of the folks talked about their organizations. Grants they’d received, challenges they were facing, staffing, budgeting, etc.

A couple of people did offer some big personal news. A woman announced that she had just become a grandmother and a guy bragged that his wife was healthy after an extended illness. That type of thing.

Then there was this one woman.

She told us about her grandchildren, where they lived, when they were coming to visit, what they were going to do on that visit.

She told us about the “meat goats” she raised, what they looked like, how they don’t like to be petted.

She told us about her horse, how she hadn’t ridden her outside since the fall, how they were starting to get ready for fox hunts.

She told us that they had burned a wood called “hardtack” all winter and that was small enough that they didn’t have to split it.

And then she told us that her husband bought her an electric chainsaw for her birthday.

I walked away knowing more about that woman than I do my own brother.

Not being an over-sharer (unless it’s in blog form), I was slightly horrified and embarrassed for her. While maybe a portion of this information was interesting and worth sharing, it wasn’t the right venue.

It baffles me why would anyone think their business associates — not co-workers who they see every day or even every week, but casual industry acquaintances — would be interested in their goats or chainsaw.

Of course, I’m the opposite. When someone, even a friend, asks me what’s new or what I’ve been doing with my time, I struggle for an answer.

Most often I’ll say nothing’s new, that I’ve just been working.

Is that really all I’ve been doing? No. I’ve been writing, reading, gardening, walking, cleaning, serving on the condo board, attending book talks, seeing shows, shopping, going out to dinner.

I can’t summon all that up at a moments notice, though. And even if I could, I would still choose not to bore everyone with the details.

As fascinating as her goats might be, I wish the woman today was as guarded with personal details as I am.

Although maybe I should just be happy that she didn’t elaborate on why exactly they’re called “meat goats.”

I’ve begun my flash fiction journey.

At the beginning of April, attended a flash fiction contest.

Authors had three minutes or less in which to read their stories and entertain the audience. Then three judges ranked both the writing and the performance.

I enjoyed the evening but walked away thinking, “I could do that.”

In fact, I walked away thinking, “I could do that better than most of those people.”

Confidence (ego?) like that is rare for me, but here’s the thing. I’m pretty good at public speaking and I’m a theater person. I know how to project, emote, take beats, allow for laughs and all that stuff.

If I could produce a decent short story, I actually think I could be successful at the whole flash fiction thing.

So I decided right then and there to enter the contest next year.

(Yes, it’s a yearly event so I have a whole year to write, edit and practice which may have contributed to my confidence level.)

I’ve been thinking about it off and on since then, but haven’t written anything.

Then, on a two hour drive to a work meeting, I had a story idea. I think it’s a good one. Maybe. I’ll let you know when I get it on paper.

But either way, the flash fiction journey is beginning!

What’s the point of getting offended on Mother’s Day?

I’m not easily offended so usually I shrug it off when someone categorizes me based on a stereotype.

I spent many years working closely with old Vermont farmers. Most of these guys were every kind of –ist you could think of… sexist, ageist, weightist.

And they’d say anything. To your face. They’d think nothing of calling you a girl because you were young and a woman, a big girl if you were young, a woman and overweight.

But it never bothered me because I considered the source. I figured that was their upbringing, the society in which they were steeped. Their parents, grandparents and great grandparents all subscribed to the same biases and when you barely leave the farm, how are you going to learn differently?

It doesn’t make it right, and it’s probably ignoble or cowardly of me, but I figure it’s going to take a lot more than one person saying that their actions are unacceptable to change them.

And I feel that way about most of the –isms I run up against.

Maybe it would be different if I faced real adversity, if racism were a part of my everyday existence or sexism prevented me from a good career, but the little bit of prejudice I experience (which is so small I hesitate to even call it prejudice. It’s more like stupidity) isn’t worth getting worked up about.

That’s why I don’t understand single, childless women who get offended when people wish them a happy mother’s day.

I didn’t even know this was a thing until I read a couple of blog posts in which these women were complaining. The authors said that being wished a happy mother’s day made them feel like less of a woman or made them feel badly that they didn’t have children.

The fact that there is no “childless woman’s day” on the calendar should be a clue to these women about societal expectations and the uselessness of whining about it.

While women’s rights have progressed in leaps and bounds, there is still a prevalent belief that a woman is supposed to have children.

She can do great things in the sciences, business, the arts, medicine and literature, but she should also be a mother. If not, there is probably something wrong with her.

I can’t tell you how many times a business associate has asked me if I have children within a few minutes of meeting. Maybe they are looking for common ground, but it’s also just a safe assumption that a woman in her thirties or forties is going to have at least one kid. It’s the norm. It’s expected.

So if society is constantly telling us all women should be mothers, what good does it do to pitch a fit when someone wishes a non-mom a happy day? It’s not going to change anything.

I don’t have children but that doesn’t prevent me from saying thank you when someone assumes, based on my age and gender, that I am a mother on a day specifically designated to celebrate moms.

Just take the well wishes and consider the source.

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Television Plot Predictor!

I think I may have discovered the world’s most useless superpower: the ability to predict the plots of dumb television shows.

Ok, maybe that’s not exactly a superpower, but just imagine if it was.

Villains are attacking the planet! Life as we know it may be coming to an end!

Superman is leaping tall buildings in a single bound! Spiderman is shooting webs out of his wrists! Batman is doing whatever it is Batman does! (Give me a break. I’ve never seen a Batman movie.)

And Television Plot Predictor is announcing, “Rayna and Deacon are going to sleep together and then have a fight on Nashville” or “Charlotte is going to start abusing prescription medication again on Revenge.”

See what I mean? Just plain useless.

And, for the record, I will neither confirm nor deny that I possess this particular superpower.

Let’s just say that I’m no Superman.

I’m a pizza inventor.

I’ve always been taken with the idea of inventing something.

Not a scientific or mechanical something. That would require too much work. And math.

A word or a saying would be easier, but since none of my Heather-isms have ever taken off, that just leaves me with a recipe.

So here’s the Three Onion Pizza that I’ve created. Maybe it’s been done before, but my internet search didn’t turn up anything. (If you find another three onion pizza out there, don’t tell me and ruin the dream of “Heather the inventor”.)

Three Onion Pizza

Ingredients:

1 pizza crust mix (I use Betty Crocker, but any mix will do, but don’t buy pre-made crust or dough.)
1/2 cup of hot water (or however much water your crust mix calls for.)
1 pinch of salt
1/2 teaspoon of crushed red pepper
1 teaspoon of pizza seasoning or any mix of yummy, Italian type spices
1/2 cup each of three different onions (I like to use Vidalia, red onion and leeks, but I’ve also tried green onions, Cipollini and shallots. They’re all good.)
3/4 cup of pizza sauce (My mom makes this from scratch, but store-bought sauce works as long as it’s in a can, not a jar. I don’t like the jarred kind.)
3/4 cup of shredded mozzarella or pizza cheese
Olive oil

Directions:

1) Preheat the oven to 450 degrees and spray a pizza pan with cooking spray.

2) Combine the crust mix, salt, red pepper and pizza seasoning together in a bowl.

3) Add the water and stir until it’s a dough ball. Cover and let it sit for five minutes.

4) Chop the onions three different ways. Slices one into rings, dice another and chop the third. Or you can get more creative. You just want them to not look alike.

5) In a small fry pan, add a little olive oil and one kind of onion. I recommend the Vidalia. Cook it over low heat until it’s carmelized. (I actually don’t know if this is how you carmelize onion. Or the difference between fried onions and carmelized onions, for that matter. If you know how to carmelize onions, do that.)

6) Flour the counter and plop your dough out of the bowl. Kneed it a couple of times and then spread it out on the pizza pan. I cheat and use a rolling pin to get the crust big enough because I hate fighting with it on the pan. I always end up with holes and I don’t like holey pizza.

7) Prick the crust with a fork and brush it with some olive oil. Then bake it for five to eight minutes.

8) Remove the crust from the oven and make sure it lifts off the pan. (Trust me, you want to do this know rather than discover it would come up when it’s fully loaded.)

9) Spread the pizza sauce on the crust. Then add the carmelized (or fried) onions, the other two raw onions and top with the cheese.

10) Bake until it’s brown and bubbly.

11) Remove from the oven and let the pizza sit for five minutes.

12) Cut and enjoy. Then brush your teeth and suck on a roll of breath minutes.

Now, can someone tell me where to findthe closest patent office?